


The Most Lamentable Comedy of Sex and Swordery, or, The Legend of the Virginity Stealing Pike

by angeleledhwen (kallistei), eledhwen (kallistei)



Series: Silliness and Subtitles, or, Addlepated Adolescent Fantasies [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-02-03
Updated: 2003-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/angeleledhwen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/eledhwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>VirginSacrifice!Harry, EpeeWielding!Sirius, NakedFencing!Snape. Extreme silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Lamentable Comedy of Sex and Swordery, or, The Legend of the Virginity Stealing Pike

**Author's Note:**

> Many of the ideas and lines come courtesy of Diana Wolf  
> ‘Severus Snape, Slytherin Sex God’ is not mine, although I have no idea who came up with it first  
> Most of Sirius’ first speech was stolen from ‘Much Ado About Nothing’  
> The Earmuffs of Hufflepuff are Godless Harlot’s

Harry accepted a cup of tea – naturally the very best Earl Grey – from Dumbledore and sipped it cautiously. “Headmaster, why did you need to see me?”

Dumbledore looked uncharacteristically anxious. “Well, Harry, I’m sure that by now you’ve heard about the wards around Hogwarts. Of course you have - you’ve studied them for your NEWTs this year. Can you tell me what you know about them?”

Harry blinked, wondering what on earth this had to do with, well, with anything. “Uhm, they’re probably the best – and longest-lasting – wards in the world. They were first erected by the four founders and have been renewed every seven years. There’s some sort of ritual involved, but Professor Binns didn’t seem to want to explain it to us. He said it was mostly superstition and none of us would ever need to know it.”

“He was partly right. There are in fact several rituals involved, and they are all completely necessary, not mere superstition by any stretch of the imagination. Without it, completed perfectly, the wards will fall. I think he was, however, perfectly justified in not describing it to you. There’s no need for anyone to know it who doesn’t have to take part in it.”

“Oh, OK. Erm, why are you telling me this?”

“Please let me finish, Harry? Then you can ask whatever questions you wish.”

Harry nodded.

“When they erected the wands, each of the founders set certain conditions which had to be carried out in order to renew them at the end of the seven year cycle.” Harry desperately wanted to ask about it right then, but forcibly restrained himself. His patience was rewarded as Dumbledore explained of his own accord.

“Helga Hufflepuff required that her Hallowed Earmuffs be worn by her Head of House as a new tree was planted in the Forbidden Forest which was her greatest creation. Godric Gryffindor demanded that the Headmaster or Headmistress cast a blood circle around the boundary of the school, and keep an all night vigil. Rowena Ravenclaw wanted a member of her House to…” he paused and coughed. “To have… relations… with a particular book.”

Harry blinked again as the Headmaster ploughed on as if determined to get this out. “At any rate, this is the year of renewal, and all of those steps have been carried out.” Harry found himself wondering which of the Ravenclaws would have had sex with a book – and how on earth they had managed it. At least this did explain why Professor Sprout had been wearing nothing but a pair of massive, rainbow-striped, fluffy earmuffs and singing the Hufflepuff House song quietly to herself as she planted a young birch tree on the outskirts of the Forest a few days earlier. It was something of a relief to learn that maybe she wasn’t, after all, completely insane.

“And Salazar Slytherin required a virgin sacrifice to the Fertility Deity he preferred.”

Harry just had to say something. “Uhm…?”

“Not the death of a virgin, Harry, but the voluntary sacrifice of maidenhead, or wizardhood if the ‘sacrifice’ is male, to his appointed delegate.”

So the stories about the Slytherin Sex God hadn’t just been silly school gossip?! He attempted to ask a question, but all that would come out was a garbled set of sounds. Thankfully – or perhaps not - Dumbledore seemed to understand what he was trying to ask. “Yes, ‘his appointed delegate’ is his Head of House. At the current time, Professor Snape.”

As if summoned by the name, a sharp rap on the door announced the arrival of Severus Snape, Potions master of Hogwarts, ex-Death Eater, and current avatar of the Slytherin Sex God. Dumbledore made a pleased noise. “Perfect timing as usual, Severus. I was just explaining the situation to Harry.”

Snape raised an eyebrow as he received the obligatory teacup.

“To cut a long story somewhat shorter, the ‘sacrifice’ must be a seventh-year student, and the strength of the corresponding wards is directly tied to the magical strength of the sacrifice. As you are the most naturally magically talented of the current pupils, we thought… hoped – please, let me finish – you would assist us in this.”

“You… you’re asking me to… to sleep with… with…”

“For god’s sake, Potter, stop stuttering and just say that you don’t want anything to do with me so that we can move on to asking someone else!”

“Who said anything about not wanting to sleep with you?”

Snape was, for once, stunned into speechlessness.

“I’d be honoured to help the school in any way I can, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, Harry. I assume you two will want a little time to, er, discuss things. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Once the door closed behind the Headmaster, Harry allowed an evil smile to cross his face as he rose and sauntered over to stand in front of his still thunderstruck Professor. “You know, I never thought I’d live to see the day I said this, but I’m very grateful Salazar Slytherin was such a perverted bastard.” Then he plopped himself down in Snape’s lap, wriggled until nothing too sharp was prodding him, and proceeded to kiss the man thoroughly.

A minute or so into the kiss, Snape started to kiss him back.

When Dumbledore returned almost forty minutes later, they were still at it although, perhaps fortunately, they hadn’t managed to get much beyond kissing. He cleared his throat pointedly, and they disengaged with more than a hint of reluctance.

“Now now, children,” he smiled knowingly and twinkled at them. “Just wait two days until everything’s ready, then no-one will stand in your way.”

* * *

And so, two days after his conversation with the Headmaster, Harry found himself in a room in the dungeons. The room was bare apart from a sturdy-looking wooden table on which stood a small array of magical equipment at its precise centre. Also present was Snape of course, as well as the Headmaster and the other Heads of House. Harry looked at them apprehensively.

“Uhm, why are you all here?”

“We’re the witnesses,” replied Professor McGonagall on behalf of them all.

“You’re not, uhm… not going to need to watch, are you?”

“Of course not!” Harry was glad to note the shock in her voice. He was beginning to think that everyone in the school was depraved, to a greater or lesser extent.

Unfortunately, his relief was rather shattered when Flitwick added, “Well, not unless you want us to…” with a distinct and indiscriminate leer.

Harry was too busy gaping to respond. Luckily Snape still had command of his tongue. “Thank you, that will not be necessary, Filius. Just do what you have to, and then you can leave us to… get on with it.”

Both Flitwick and Sprout looked more than a little disappointed, and even the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes faded just a touch. At least McGonagall looked pleased by Snape’s assurance. Harry clung to it as a tiny spark of sanity in a world disappearing around the bend at warp speed.

“OK people, starting places please!” ordered Dumbledore in his best stage manager’s voice. Harry moved to stand beside Snape, facing Dumbledore, who was in front of the table. Altar, really, he supposed. The other three teachers lined up behind the table so they could watch the two participants – or, perhaps more appropriately, victims.

* * *

“We are gathered here today…” Dumbledore managed to get out before Harry interrupted. No one had bothered to tell him what would actually be said during the ritual, but this was starting to sound really ominous. While Snape was admittedly extremely shaggable, Harry simply wasn’t ready for marriage just yet.

“Uhm… I really hope this isn’t going to continue the way it seems like it’s started,” he said, attempting to be subtle.

Everyone gave him identically blank looks. OK, maybe a little too much subtlety. “Er, what I mean is, I’m really a bit too young to be thinking about lifetime commitments and marriage and such. And I’m actually a bit of a romantic – I’ll never forgive any of you if you tell Ron – and I’d really like to marry for love and…” He caught the worried and confused glances that were now being directed at him and decided to wind up before he managed to babble too much. “And, uhm, that’s about it, really.”

“Harry,” Snape was smirking at him. “Just two things. First, we are not getting married. Trust me, if the Headmaster had lured us here for such a purpose, there would be a lot more screaming going on, and it would not be on my part, I assure you. I can promise you unequivocally that this is purely about the sex. Secondly, there is more than one way of saying ‘really’. I suggest you try investing in a thesaurus.”

Harry blinked at him. “Uhm, OK. That’s a relief, then.” He nodded at Dumbledore. “You can carry on now.”

Dumbledore gave him a look that could only really be described as Snapish. “I’m glad I have your approval.” Then he began again.

For the next half hour, Snape and Harry clasped hands and released them, spoke, ate, drank, cut hair and burned it, all as directed by the Headmaster. Finally, he announced that the really ‘ritualistic’ parts of the ritual were complete. Herding the other teachers toward the door, he ushered them out, then turned back to the two still in the room. “All right boys,” he said with something that was disturbingly close to a leer, “It’s all up to you now. Just do what comes naturally, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Harry shuddered as the door closed behind Dumbledore. “Geez. The thought of him doing anything like this is enough to put me off for life.”

“Actually, he did at one point.”

“Huh? He what? But I thought…” He stopped. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. So are we going to do it or not?”

Snape smiled dangerously at him. “All in good time, Harry. All in good time.”

Harry was still too busy shivering at the tone of Snape’s voice and the look in his eyes when he was pounced on and thoroughly kissed. As his mouth was thoroughly excavated by a really quite astonishingly skilled tongue, he realised that he really didn’t care what they were doing this for anymore, he just wanted Snape to keep doing that. And that. And what the hell, that too. He also realised just why Snape was his generation’s incarnation of the Slytherin Sex God. He would have cried “Hallelujah” to the heavens at this revelation, but that would have defeated the whole point of the exercise. So instead he just gave himself up to the seemingly never-ending kiss – did the man not need to breathe or something? – and let himself do whatever felt right.

This, entirely naturally and utterly logically, led some time later to Harry practically ripping his own clothes off in something of an excess of eagerness. Distantly he wondered what exactly had been in the things they’d eaten and drunk during the ritual, but decided it didn’t really matter right now.

It also led to Snape whipping his wand out of his robes a moment before they fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, leaving him too naked. Led to said wand being waved in a completely authoritative fashion despite his lack of clothes, and the table being transfigured to a very large, very comfortable-seeming bed. Harry couldn’t prevent himself making a little noise of disappointment. He’d rather been looking forward to being bent over the table – it had been quite apparent for quite some time that they surely weren’t going to make it to Snape’s bedroom, which he’d initially assumed would be the site of their private ritual. Or, for that matter, bending Snape over the desk, although he thought they had to accomplish the former in order to succeed in their purpose.

“Don’t worry, I will be more than happy to take you over a desk later on, if you wish. However, I suspect you would prefer something more comfortable for your first time.

“Times, technically, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought.

Harry blinked at him.

“You are pathetically easy to read, Harry,” replied Snape, turning to face him after making some minor alterations to the new bed. “And yes, there will have to be ‘times’. There will also be a later, if you are amenable.”

Harry blinked some more, and decided that Snape had command of entirely too many syllables for someone who was just about to have hot, sweaty sex with him. While his answer to Snape’s not-quite-question wasn’t verbal, it was most definitely a ‘Yes’.

His half-tackle knocked the man onto his back on the bed, with Harry sprawled on top of him like an overly enthusiastic rug. Snape was really rather bony, but Harry was enjoying himself far too much to care.

“Oof.” Snape spluttered for a while before managing to get some comprehensible words out. “Get off me, boy. I’m far too old for this.”

Harry didn’t move, instead quirking an eyebrow at him, an expression he suspected he’d learnt from Snape. “Not too old for this though, I hope,” he said, insinuating a hand between them to grab between Snape’s legs. Not that he needed to, considering that the man’s cock had been poking him already, just as his had been retaliating in kind, but he felt it made the point more effectively.

“Well,” said Snape. “I am the Slytherin Sex God, after all.”

“Prove it.”

* * *

Snape was woken from his deep, well-earned sleep at seven o’clock the next morning when the door banged open. He just had time to register that at some point in the night they’d moved to his bed when Sirius Black stormed in, dressed for battle (complete with his epee in a scabbard at his side) and practically frothing at the mouth. “You scoundrel!” he began before he was halfway in. “You have vanquished the resistance of his youth and made defeat of his virginity! I demand you marry him at once! Or else I will be forced to prove your villainy upon your iniquitous body!”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at him. “Is it your intention to wake your godson? I assure you that after last night’s… exertions… he needs to rest. Besides, surely so many exclamation points are hazardous to the health?”

“So you do not intend to make him an honest man?” retorted Sirius, ignoring large portions of Snape’s last speech in the interests of his (debatable) sanity. “In fact you intend to cast him aside now that you have had your use of him! Stand and fight, you invertebrate–“

“-inveterate-” interjected Snape. Being pedantic often got him good results, he’d found.

Sirius ignored the interruption. “–blackguard! I will defend his honour, though it cost my life!”

The other eyebrow rose to join its mate. “In the interests of accuracy, I wish to state that I intend to… ‘have my use of him’ on many more occasions in the future, if he will allow it. However, if you are bent upon a duel, Black, I will be happy to oblige you.”

“What does it matter what I mean? It only matters what I do! Cease your delaying and prepare to meet your maker!” Logic was very clearly beyond Sirius by this point.

“Very well, if you insist,” acquiesced Snape. He wasn’t exactly reluctant to fight Sirius after all, apart from his brief attempt to consider Harry’s feelings.

He threw the bedsheets off his body with an eminently showy gesture. This would however have been far more effective had he not, at Harry’s sleepily complaining mutter, paused to tuck them back around the boy’s still sleeping body, pat him on the shoulder and kiss him lightly at the corner of the mouth. Then he slithered out of the bed and tapped at a particular point on the elaborately carved headboard. A panel slid back virtually soundlessly to reveal a niche containing a fencing foil and glove. Snape slipped the glove on with well-practiced ease, and picked up the foil.

In all his naked glory (except, of course, for the leather-backed, fabric-palmed glove), Snape assumed the en garde position in the fortunate clear space in the middle of his room. Sirius blinked for a second, then whipped out his sword and prepared to do battle.

“So, you think you do not even need clothes to face me? I shall teach you the error of your ways!” he said in a reasonable equivalent to Snape’s own deadly whisper. Unfortunately the effect was rather spoilt when his gaze dropped, rather despite his will, to Snape’s groin. “Merlin’s beard, man!” he exclaimed. “Stop waving your damned virginity-stealing pike at me!”

“I thought that was supposed to be the point,” remarked Snape, “Not to mention, you indicated that it was about Harry’s honour.”

“Well, that too. And,” he added snottily, “I really didn’t want to know what kinky things you get up to with your… foil. Anyway, let’s get on with…” He paused, realising that he’d slipped rather out of character. “Er, stop your incessant chattering, man, and defend yourself!”

“En garde! Ready!” Sirius was determined to do this the proper way, it seemed. It was simply a pity they didn’t have a real umpire.

As if summoned by that thought, there was a shifting from the bed. A hand patted the empty space on the bed beside the body it belonged to, then a tousled black head raised itself off the pillow slightly.

“Severus?”

“I… have my hands rather full right now, Harry,” he replied obliquely.

“Harry! Did he hurt you?”

“Wha? Sirius?” Harry’s words were just about distinguishable through his sleepy slur.

“Yes. Don’t worry about that, just get dressed and get out. He can’t keep you here anymore if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to be here!” Harry finally summoned up enough energy to raise himself enough to look over to where both men still stood, ready to begin battle.

“Oooh! Swords!” A tiny hint of dribble made itself known at the corner of Harry’s mouth, and he looked far more awake all of a sudden. “Well, don’t let me hold you up, carry on!”

Sirius blinked at Harry. “I’m doing this for your benefit, you know.”

“Oh, how nice of you. I’m enjoying it a lot – especially the view. Thanks a lot, Sirius!”

Sirius blinked again, and then decided to just make the best of it. “Well, then make yourself useful and be the umpire, Harry.”

“Brilliant!” Harry shifted until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, with an unimpeded view of the proceedings. “Right then. En garde, ready, fence! And all that jazz!”

Rather than fighting, both men lowered their swords in favour of looking, faintly worriedly, at Harry.

“Er, Harry?” said Sirius tentatively. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Just dandy, why d’you ask? I thought you were going to give me a show.” And he didn’t mean just a fencing exhibition, either.

“What you just said,” replied Snape. “It certainly didn’t sound normal to me.”

“It’s just a Muggle reference, Sev, not a sign of approaching insanity. And since when have you been a judge of what’s normal anyway? You’re amazing – and now I have personal proof of that – but normal you ain’t.”

“Right. Black, I suggest we leave Harry there to his ramblings and continue. If we continue at this rate we’ll still be here when the new century comes round.”

“I hate to admit it, but you have a point.”

“Fence!” exclaimed Harry excitedly, clapping his hands with glee.

And so they did.

* * *

Both of the men were accomplished duellists. However, Sirius initially appeared more than a little disorientated by Snape’s nakedness. Hardly surprising, considering the size of his… sword. This allowed the taller man to draw first blood, scoring a tiny scratch along Sirius’ right cheekbone.

Sirius growled in irritation as he disengaged and touched the mark gently with his left hand. “You’ll pay for that, villain.”

Snape lifted a sceptical eyebrow at him, but refrained from commenting.

“Point to Sev, I think.”

“Can you please not call him that? It makes it sound like you’re… friends, or something.”

“Oh, we’re not friends at all.”

“Good.”

“We’re lovers.”

Sirius growled, and launched himself once more into the fray, without even waiting for Harry to give the signal, and heedless of the fact that Snape wasn’t prepared to defend himself. The other man however managed to get himself together just in time to meet the attack with his own blade, and retaliate in kind.

Whether it was the effect of the cut or of Harry’s comment, Sirius was now far more focused, and the two combatants, to borrow a phrase from an overly melodramatic novel, wove a glittering web of steel between them. Harry thought it was really rather pretty, although his eyes kept wandering to Snape rather than remaining focused on the activities of their blades.

The second hit went to Sirius, as Snape misjudged a parry just a fraction and a thin red line appeared across his chest. “Ow!” he said indignantly as Harry scrambled off the bed to reach him.

“Sev! Are you okay?” he said urgently, pressing his hand to the top of the sluggishly bleeding wound, and ignoring Sirius’ resumed discontented growling.

“No. Your godfather just managed to score a hit on me. My pride may never recover,” he huffed.

“Aw. Don’t worry, Sev. You’ve got pride enough for three, you can afford to lose just a little.”

Snape glared at him, and Harry grinned cheekily back. “So, are you going to be alright?”

“I suppose,” replied Snape more than a little sulkily.

“Good.”

“Harry, how come you weren’t so concerned about me?” Sirius sounded a tad hurt as he asked the question, his eyes looking everywhere but directly at the two.

“Oh, you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself,” replied Harry, turning back to face him.

That flippant comment earned him glares from both men. He smirked, and returned to his position on the bed. “Carry on, then.”

Once more the two launched themselves into the fray. After a few more minor wounds on both sides and a great many deeply showy techniques, the dust settled finally to reveal Snape with his foil nestled in the hollow of Sirius’ throat, just pricking the skin.

“Do you yield?”

“Never.”

“Then do you at least admit that I have the right to pursue a relationship with Harry?”

“You only won because your foil’s bigger than mine,” said Sirius petulantly.

Harry couldn’t hold back a giggle. “I never thought you’d admit that in almost-public!” he said between peals of laughter.

The other men gave him blank looks, shrugged in unison and returned to their conversation.

“Whatever the reason, I won. And you lost.” Snape was quite clearly not bothering to keep the triumph out of his voice.

“Fine, then. Rub it in, why don’t you?” Sirius was definitely the one sulking now.

“I rather think I will.” Snape was smirking again. “At any rate, your answer please?”

“Okay, fine! You can do anything with Harry you want to. Just don’t let me see it.” It was a barely-audible mutter, but he had conceded.

“Gladly. Now, put your sword back in its scabbard and get out.”

Sirius scampered.

“Hail the conquering hero!” exclaimed Harry as Snape turned away from casting a rather vicious locking spell on the door.

“I feel I deserve a reward for my restraint,” hinted Snape, not too subtly. Subtlety was, after all, often wasted on Harry.

“Come back to bed, and I’ll give you all the reward you’ll ever want.” Definitely no trace of subtlety there.

“That’s a rather large promise.”

“I think I can live up to it.”

They both laughed, although Snape rather surprised himself when he did that. And then he did go back to bed, Harry most definitely lived up to his promise, and they all lived happily ever after.

Yes, even Sirius, because Harry did, after years of trying, finally manage to make Snape an honest man.

THE END


End file.
